


Rooms with a View

by Sanctitatem



Category: Berena - Fandom, Holby City
Genre: Alternative First Meeting, Angst, Canon Divergence, F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28898925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanctitatem/pseuds/Sanctitatem
Summary: Bernie and Serena find themselves staying in the same hotel while they are each divorcing their husbands. This hotel might be the place where marriages have come to die, but could it be a place for something else to start? Only time will tell.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 30
Kudos: 78





	1. Room 402

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my super slow burn hotel AU fic.  
> I have no schedule for posting, I'm just going to go with whatever my muse gives me. But if all goes to plan then this should be around ten chapters long.  
> Special thanks to ktlsyrtis for the hotel idea :)  
> Hope you enjoy this intro to the fic.  
> Thanks!!

Feelings were a funny thing. A strange concept, Bernie thought. She remembered her mother telling her, when she was younger, that passion fades but love endures. Perhaps it did for her, for both Bernie’s parents. But Bernie knew now, as clear as day, that wasn’t always true, and love wasn’t always enough. Something was missing, and it had taken an IED in the desert for Bernie to realise that. For her to accept her marriage was over.

It had taken Marcus longer to accept what Bernie had known for months. For, when Bernie had lain in bed with him and felt a distance between them, an ache deep in her chest, her husband had been oblivious. His love had endured, it was enough for him. Bernie had to question why hers had not.

She’d gone on her next, and what turned out to be her final, tour with a heavy heart. Filled with confusion and an emptiness that she couldn’t identify. They say time heals all wounds. So it stood to reason that it might help this one, and perhaps some space would be good for her too. It could act as a healer. A salve to her soul.

It wasn’t until an attractive Captain, an anaesthetist newly attached to their unit, caught her eye that she started to understand. Her heart thumped in her chest, and her breathing shallowed, every time the woman came near. Sparkling eyes and a brilliant smile captured Bernie’s heart like nothing else had before. Like no one else had before. Guilt filled every pore, every inch of Bernie, Marcus always in the back of her mind. Even as she flirted, unable to stop herself, longing for a connection she’d never realised she needed.

It was all too late, however. The IED hit. Bernie was injured, almost lost. The Captain died. It was then, as raw pain cut into her heart, and unexplored regrets filled her dreams, that Bernie knew. Knew what she had to do.

While still in hospital, she’d asked Marcus for a divorce. The real reason was kept secret, locked away somewhere deep inside her like her heart caged by her ribs. Instead, she managed to persuade him that the explosion had given her a kick in the arse, a clarity that had brought her to the conclusion that they no longer worked. Something she’d realised was a long time coming, she’d said. The words felt bitter in her mouth, unable to bring herself to look Marcus in the eye and witness the pain she knew would be there. But it was something that had to be done. Her life meant more than being stuck in an unhappy marriage. Bernie needed more.

This was why Bernie found herself in room 402. Her temporary home and a place to convalesce. It was taking her body longer than she’d anticipated to heal from her injuries. There was a stiffness to her gait, and pain had carved indelible markings around her eyes and mouth, as if the incident had aged her. Creeping insomnia wasn’t helping, nor the rhythmic banging from next door at just before 2am every night – did that man get any sleep?

Still, the room was nice. A plush, queen sized bed that Bernie tried to pretend was a luxury and not a cavernous expanse of emptiness beside her every night. The desk and chair were not her style but suited for their purpose. The armchair was Bernie’s favourite place in the room, situated by the window and giving great views of the sunsets on evenings where the weather was kind enough. The walk-in shower was a godsend to her battered body, and it was nice, after all those years of military bathing facilities, to have something out of indulgence rather than necessity.

Since she was still on medical leave, Bernie didn’t have to worry too much about expenses. Not yet fit enough to work, her focuses were on her weekly therapy and thrice weekly physio sessions. Those regularly left the Major exhausted and frustrated, unable to tell whether she was making progress, at least compared to her high standards. It didn’t matter how many times someone told her to have patience, to give it time, Bernie wanted it all fixed yesterday.

The hotel symbolised her feelings on the entire matter: she felt stuck in limbo. It was her home and yet it was not. It was her life, and yet it was not. The freedom and relief she had expected to come from leaving Marcus hadn’t arrived. She felt as encased in her own existence as her shattered thigh bone was trapped by the pins and plates holding it together.

All Bernie could do was to fall back on routine. Every day the same. What might be monotony to some brought balance and structure to Bernie. The military had imprinted that much onto her, and more. It provided a feeling of safety to counterbalance the increasing anxiety and mind-numbing boredom she felt, every inch of her craving her work. Something to drive her forward, help her move on. Her fingers itched to get back to it, missing the rush of fixing another biological puzzle, under pressure. Although even Bernie couldn’t deny the plus side of having the comforts of a hotel versus the plain living of the army. Her body certainly complained less.

The highlights of her stay were whenever she got to see her kids. The divorce was hard on them all and the two young adults still struggled to understand their mother’s reasoning, but they were trying to accept it. The distance between them felt enormous and it had taken more courage than she ever thought she would need to explain why her marriage was over. To come out to her children, not knowing how they would take it. She had thought, more than once, that operating under fire had been easier than this.

But they’d all come out the other side unscathed and better for it. Both Cam and Charlotte had hugged Bernie before they’d left, with the latter whispering into Bernie’s ear that they both loved her, no matter what. Bernie had been left with a wave of emotion that she tried to keep in, only a few tears betraying her. The kids had promised to come back and see her again soon, leaving Bernie with the hope that the relationship she had with her children wasn’t completely broken after all.

That was what Bernie’s life had become. A rollercoaster of emotions while the world trundled along merrily around her. The hotel bustled with life and movement. Bernie felt stale and withdrawn. It hadn’t helped that her unit, and her friends within it, were still back in Afghanistan. Communications with them were spotty at best, but Bernie had arranged to meet up with some of them on their return. That was her aim, her target. To get rid of her cane by then. She planned on pushing herself to that end.

The details of the carpet, as she hobbled along towards the lift, were more than a little familiar to her now. The slightly worn patches, where not to place her cane, patterns she’d picked up and noted as the trips had started to blur into one. The way her cane pressed, and imprinted, into the carpet’s pile, a little bit of her left behind on her journeys, however briefly. It had become a habit of hers to count her steps to the lift, and in doing so place her cane in particular spots as she went. This was especially true on days where her body felt more tired than usual, when even the smallest of movements were an effort to produce.

It was on one particular Tuesday that Bernie had been pulled out of her thoughts on the carpet and towards the door of her next-door neighbour. A little late for the usual housekeeping, Bernie was surprised to see the door wide open and two cleaners, chatting amongst themselves, going in and out – stripping the room. It was not a busy day of the week for the hotel and Bernie couldn’t help noting that from her position the room looked to be completely devoid of bags or personal belongings.

“Maybe the week’s looking up,” Bernie muttered to herself as she turned to make her well-accustomed journey to the lift and down to reception. She’d been hoping that wretched man would leave at some point soon. Perhaps now she might get an uninterrupted night’s sleep.

Bernie laughed at that. A self-deprecating, hollow chuckle.

As if her sleep issues could be whittled down to being blamed on one man and his overactive libido.

Jealously and loneliness bit into Bernie at that thought and, as she took the lift to the ground floor, she forced herself into practising her breathing exercises to refocus her mind. Little would come from falling into that deep, dark hole. Staring up into the bright lights of the lift as a light rattle signified that it was coming to a stop, Bernie’s grip on her cane tightened, her own stubbornness pushing her forward – out of the lift and towards the reception desk.

She really did need to get some proper sleep, she thought as she caught a glance of herself in the mirrored side of a column and grimaced at what she saw. Luckily, no one ever commented on the bags under her eyes or her drawn complexion. It was hard for Bernie to tell whether she had lost a few pounds or whether it was the weight of everything that had happened that made her cheeks look thinner than usual, her eyes a little sunken.

Leaning against the reception desk, she picked up her redirected post. Tapping the light bundle, Bernie decided to let curiosity get the better of her and enquired over her next-door neighbour.

“Oh, yes. He checked out this morning. Very last minute. Another business trip, I believe,” came the reply, much to Bernie’s relief.

But the young man on the desk didn’t stop there.

“You’ll be getting a new neighbour this evening. A woman, I think. Rang up needing a room straight away.”

Bernie nodded, an odd mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling up within her at the prospect of someone new. Her only real hope was that they were quiet, and hopefully friendly enough. When you lived on either side of a wall that seemed to let every little bit of sound through, it was an advantage to have a good relationship with your neighbours. Bernie had never said much to her old neighbour but for the odd nod in the corridor. She wouldn’t expect anything more than that.

“That explains the quick turn around then,” Bernie murmured, not really expecting a response from the young man.

Thanking him for the information, and her post, Bernie turned on the spot and started to make her way outside. Tugging her coat more securely around her, as best she could while holding the letters in her hand, Bernie made slow progress through the door and down towards a bench a few feet away. Not only was this good for her muscles – her physio had encouraged her to walk more, short distances and nothing too strenuous – but it also gave Bernie an excuse for a cigarette.

Letters tucked securely under her thigh, cane balanced next to her, Bernie sat back as she pulled out the warn packet and lighter from her pocket. Pale, thin fingers brought the cigarette to her lips and Bernie let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders sagging, after the first inhale. Rolling the cigarette between her thumb and index finger, the roar of the road muffled as she was drawn back into her thoughts. Images flashed in front of her eyes, as they quite often did. Her guilt playing on her, over and over, as she revisited the explosion and crash. The lifeless face of the pretty Captain stamped across her mind, a seemingly permanent and cruel reminder of all her regrets and mistakes; of a life ended before its time.

Blinking, Bernie was abruptly pulled out of her trance by a head of short brown hair, the flutter of the edge of a blouse caught in the wind, and a voice whose tone caught Bernie’s attention immediately.

“Yes, Ellie. I’ve just arrived.” The woman said into her phone before sighing, stopping just before the door to put her bag down so she could rub her temples. “You could at least have let me get into the building before you gave me the third degree.”

Bernie couldn’t help but notice, under the layer of stress that had obviously enveloped the woman, that she was strikingly pretty. A strong jaw line, a dimple that begged to be looked at, if not touched. Bernie realised she’d been staring and snapped her head over to the opposite direction, hoping the woman hadn’t noticed.

“This will all be temporary, I’m sure,” the brunette continued, as she glanced over at Bernie before looking agitatedly around at the rest of the deserted street. Somehow only just realising that her conversation could have been overheard by anyone.

Watching her out of the corner of her eye, Bernie wondered if this was her new next-door neighbour. She certainly hoped so. It was a bright spark of hope that flickered into life in Bernie’s chest, having been extinguished for weeks. Bernie took another drag on her cigarette as she stared down at her own knees, her free hand picking at a loose thread on her coat.

The brunette finally went inside and left Bernie alone once more. Alone with her thoughts, and a new fluttering in her stomach prompted by a pretty brunette with fierce eyes and voice as rich as the darkest chocolate.


	2. Infidelity and Shiraz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena checks into the hotel

Eventually, when looking back on it all, Serena would wonder to herself how she never saw it coming. The final straw. The one that broke the camel’s back. After all, it had been coming for quite some time. So long, in fact, that Serena was almost ashamed that she’d let herself be dragged along for that length of time. Not that she’d admit it. The consultant vascular surgeon was far too proud to do so. Perhaps it was the same pride that had stopped her from leaving earlier.

Everything in Serena’s life had to go perfectly, or as near as. Education, career, family; all of it. High expectations and pressure to succeed had been her mother’s forte. Small seeds of ambition, that had been sown as a child, that could have either seen her flourish or crushed. The perfect life for a daughter that tried so hard to live up to her mother’s expectations. To live up to her own expectations. So, her marriage ending, however much it wasn’t her fault, felt like a personal failure. Mistakes, Serena could live with. They were something you could learn from. But not failure.

Hiding her pain behind her well-constructed, well-practised, British reserve, Serena had tried to carry on. Presenting a perfect picture of life to those around her while, at home, it had been slowly crumbling.

Long shifts, late nights, screaming fights.

Accusations, drinking, lies.

It had all slowly started to add up, slowly crept up on her. Eventually all the bad started to outweigh the good. The happiness they had shared obliterated by the sadness Serena felt every time she thought of her husband and her home.

But this had been the last time she was going to put up with it. The last time she accepted Edward’s apologies. The last time she convinced herself that it was worth it, to keep the marriage together for Elinor’s sake. For her own sake. It was always a stab to the heart when Serena found out about another of Edward’s infidelities. But this? This was pure humiliation and that, she wasn’t going to stand for.

Having her husband chase after nurses and junior doctors, Serena was used to, but this time it had been a nurse on her ward, under her supervision. An affair that she had been the last to find out about, or so it felt. Now, everywhere she went Serena could feel the tell-tale looks boring into her back. The sympathy. The judgment.

A line had to be drawn.

It couldn’t be allowed to affect her professional life.

So, Serena had left her marriage and home. Someone had to leave before more sparks flew. Before the neighbours started to overhear them. After debating forcing Edward to leave, Serena had decided it should be her. They could argue over the house and contents in court. For now she needed space, unfamiliar surroundings. A place that didn’t shout of Edward or every heartbreak along the way.

It was a godsend, Serena tried to reason with herself, that she’d waited until now. Elinor was at university: an adult. At least her daughter would be spared most of the messiness and Serena knew there would be mess. But no custody battles. No vying for affection or favouritism. Their daughter knew them both well enough to make up her own mind anyway and Serena hoped Elinor would show kindness to her mother. A bit of kindness would be nice, right about now.

In the end there was only her daughter’s usual style. Cynical, bordering on plain hurtful, because of course Elinor had seen this coming. It was only Serena who had been blind to it all. But Serena hadn’t been blind. It just happened to be a lot more complicated than her daughter could see. More than Serena would ever let anyone know.

That was how she found herself trudging up the old stone steps that lead into the hotel. Hand clasping her phone to her ear, she couldn’t help but eye-roll at her daughter’s words, safe in the knowledge that Elinor couldn’t see her.

A flicker of movement, to her left, caught her eye and Serena looked over to see a blonde woman sitting on the bench next to the steps. The next words Elinor spoke never registered with Serena as worry gripped her at being overheard. Everything was too raw, she was too vulnerable, for just anyone to know right now. Eyes darting around, she was pleased to see that the street was otherwise deserted. Hopefully, the stranger, who Serena could now see was smoking, was simply curious about a new arrival, a disturbance in the otherwise peaceful atmosphere of the street.

But Serena noticed the woman was clearly trying hard not to look like she was eavesdropping. Or was she trying not to stare? Serena pushed that thought out of her mind straight away. Ludicrous. There was no possible way that her arrival would be anything but a passing interest to anyone around. She’d come straight from work, after all. There was absolutely no cause for anyone to stare.

Finally able to remove the phone from her ear, Serena tucked it back into her pocket with a heavy sigh. That was one conversation out of the way. The only conversation that mattered, that day. Telling Elinor over the phone hadn’t been ideal but perhaps easier than facing her. If only to protect the shattered remnants of Serena’s heart.

The sharp click of her footsteps were soon muffled by the carpet that lined the lobby floor. The cold of the afternoon left behind her, Serena appreciated the warmth of the lights and radiators alike. The ambience soothed. The distant chatter comforted. The hotel, like an old friend, fortified Serena’s resolve and guided her towards the reception desk.

As Serena had expected, she was a little early to check in. It had all been so sudden, so last minute, she was grateful she’d found a room available. The thought of one more night under the same roof as Edward made her skin crawl. A short wait in the bar was nothing compared to that. Not that it took much to entice Serena into that particular room. Especially when she found out that they stocked one of her favourite bottles of Shiraz.

That was where the receptionist found her, thirty minutes later, nursing what was left of her glass of wine. The first, and only, this early in the day. Drowning her sorrows would be easy. Too easy. Back at home, Serena knew that would be exactly what Edward was doing, and she didn’t want to be like Edward. The pain, however sharp, needed to be felt. That much, Serena knew. That wasn’t to say her resolve on the matter would keep. But for now, she kept to moderation.

A key card, encased in a cardboard sleeve, was placed on the table, and Serena offered a warm smile in thanks. Picking the card up, Serena toyed with it for a moment before opening the sleeve up and reading the brief instructions written inside. Times the dining room was open. Wi-Fi code. The room number.

Room 401.

An inane thought crossed Serena’s mind, as she stared down at the card, that she would have much preferred 400 for her room. A much nicer number. Not that such a thing made any difference.

Taking the key card out and pocketing the sleeve, Serena tapped it against her free hand as she absentmindedly stared across the room. A flicker of blonde hair caught her eye. Blinking, Serena refocused to look properly. Closer to the entrance, her back to the wall, sat the woman who had been outside not that long ago. Serena hadn’t even noticed her enter the bar: a sign that she really had been stuck in her own little world.

Sitting back in her chair, now slowly tapping the key card against the table, Serena considered the woman. There was something about her that caught Serena’s attention and she didn’t think it was the mess of blonde hair. Although it did lead Serena to wonder if it was wind-swept or if that was its usual state of being.

The woman was pale and appeared tired. Not simply from lack of sleep. It was as if exhaustion sank right down into her bones. Serena had seen that look before. Long term health conditions, sickness, injury. There were many reasons for it, and Serena found herself more than a little curious as to the cause in this case. A bubble of concern expanded in her chest for a reason that Serena couldn’t fathom.

Being in medicine, Serena had always wanted to help others. But over the years she had learnt her own limits. When to push and when to hold back. Whatever the woman was going through wasn’t any of her business and Serena wasn’t sure she could afford to expend any emotional energy unnecessarily. If she was asked, that was another question. But, for now she settled for watching from afar.

It was a good few minutes before Serena realised she had been staring. That long, in fact, that the woman across the room had noticed and was looking back at her with an expression that Serena couldn’t pinpoint. A warm blush suffused the brunette’s cheeks as she offered a small smile before looking away. That meant that Serena did not see Bernie’s eyes gaze upon her for a few moments more. She didn’t see the loneliness nor the longing.

Draining the last drops of wine, finally, from her glass, Serena decided that it was time to find her room. To retreat into privacy for the first time that day. Then she could finally let her walls down, without the scrutiny of others around her.

Gathering her belongings, Serena was already fantasising about a bath and room service. Perhaps she’d order a bottle of wine for later that evening and find some soppy rom-com to indulge in. But the thought of watching one minute of romance had Serena screwing up her nose. One of those action blockbusters, perhaps. Something that required as little mental effort as possible.

Walking back through the bar, Serena glanced over to the blonde woman as she passed and found a pair of brown eyes staring back at her. The richness of colour caused Serena’s breath to catch in her throat. Flattening the hair at the nape of her neck, Serena managed a polite smile as she forced herself to continue out of the bar, marching over to the lift that would take her to her room.

Little did Serena know that the mysterious stranger, who went back to nursing her own drink as soon as Serena was out of sight, was now her next-door neighbour. A woman, Serena felt surprisingly drawn to. An instant connection she couldn’t describe nor explain. Riding up to the fourth floor, Serena leant against the wall of the lift, fatigue and curiosity filling her in equal measure. Trying to put Edward out of her mind, Serena chose to think of the woman with sorrowful eyes, hoping that she might have the opportunity to satisfy some of that curiosity another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	3. Heated Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena's moved in but it's not all plain sailing.

Back in the bar, light from aged lamps glinted off the glassware. The orange bulbs gave everything an odd glow, as if there were multiple fires raging. Instead, the warmth in the room was provided by clunky radiators dotted around. The result was an atmosphere that lured you in, lulled and comforted. Over the weeks, Bernie had wondered if it had been done intentionally or whether the effect was a lucky happenstance when the bulbs had changed over. She hadn’t thought to ask.

The only thing missing was the crackle of logs burning. Instead, the air was filled with the quiet murmurings of regular patrons and hotel guests alike. Soft jazz played through speakers hidden from view, giving the bar an old world feeling that suited Bernie quite well. If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe herself to be in another place, at another time. Somewhere far away from reality. No one ever noticed the woman in the corner, eyes closed, off in her own little world.

But that afternoon, Bernie hadn’t wanted to drift off with the music and her whisky. It had taken a little over five minutes, once the attractive woman had entered the hotel, before Bernie had finished her cigarette and found herself wandering over to her usual haunt in the bar. Serena might not have noticed Bernie for a while but the same could not be said for Bernie.

Letting the pad of one finger run around the rim of her glass, over and over, Bernie tried to avoid outright staring. Every so often Serena was subject to furtive glances of varying durations. Bernie knew she ought to not get her hopes up. There were so few single women, that is women on their own, in the hotel, and Bernie so wanted a friend. A connection. Someone she could talk to, and there was something about this woman that spoke to Bernie. They hadn’t even exchanged greetings but there was something. A familiar something that burned bright in the pit of Bernie’s stomach.

Eyes meeting across the room only confirmed the bubble of emotions that grew inside the battered Major. It didn’t last long but it was enough. Bernie was sure that she saw a familiar look in the other woman’s eyes, but perhaps that was wishful thinking.

Following Serena’s departure, Bernie let herself indulge in watching the other woman. Pushing down the feelings of guilt, of selfishness, Bernie had to shake herself away from any comparisons of previous chances. All images of broken bodies and dull eyes. One incident did not make her cursed. Neither did regrets. Her grip tightened around her glass as the departing woman finally vanished out of sight. Silently berating her cowardice for not even being able to say hello, Bernie downed her drink – fully intent on ordering another. The night was young, after all.

Days went by before either woman saw the other again. Bernie had, more than once, hesitated outside room 401 before continuing to her room. Serena had been so caught up in balancing her work and the car crash end of her marriage that she hadn’t time to consider anyone else around her.

In fact, Serena had barely been in her room. Swept up with the need for distraction, work became her solace: her escape from the pain. For, what was a little heartbreak when faced with people’s worst days and living nightmares? If there was one thing that Serena fell back on in times of trouble, it was pushing her feelings aside. No matter how badly it always turned out. Keep calm and carry on, might as well have been emblazoned on her chest, for she held it as a shield and forged on with each day and each obstacle.

After one week of attempting to ignore Edward, and his actions, it all started to crumble around Serena. They’d both needed time, needed space. But eventually Edward grew restless – needing to know what Serena wanted to do, what she wanted to happen. Unwilling to talk to him about it so soon, texts went unanswered, voicemails deleted. Serena couldn’t stand to hear his voice. She didn’t want to hear his demands for lawyers and signatures and arbitrators. She couldn’t bear to hear him beg, in another drunken stupor, for her to return, for them to reconnect and reunite.

It was all too much.

All sorts of ideas had floated through her mind: change her number, take some leave, anything to protect herself from any more of his humiliation. But Serena knew she couldn’t hide forever. The divorce would need to be settled, she had to get on with her life.

In room 402, Bernie quite often woke in the middle of the night to hear the dull mumblings of the television in Serena’s room – white noise to drown out her own thoughts. Or footsteps pacing back and forth, as Serena tried to walk off her frustrations and clear her mind. All in the hopes that eventually sleep would take her. It didn’t bother Bernie, rather it concerned her. Once again, she was left wondering if her neighbour managed any sleep, but for an entirely different reason.

One evening during the next week, at the point where Bernie had almost given up all hope of seeing the mysterious brunette again let alone talking to her, they finally bumped into each other. Waiting by the lift, leaning heavily on her cane, Bernie knew she was about to be joined by someone from the tell-tale tapping of shoes on the polished lobby floor.

It was quite late; darkness had well and truly fallen. Bernie had come from the bar, her usual hideout after dinner if she couldn’t face the loneliness of her room. Dinner had been routine. Something which had been soothing after a rather stressful physiotherapy session earlier on. Every inch of her ached and Bernie was now glad to have that big bed to look forward to. Her left hand rubbed over her hip and down her thigh, around to where she knew the pins and plates would be under her flesh. Logically she knew that it would be impossible to feel them, but some part of her brain was convinced otherwise. That the creaks she felt were the artificial additions to her body and not the weariness of her age and condition.

It took a double glance to her side before Bernie realised who was standing next to her, waiting for the lift. It had been Serena’s footsteps she had heard behind her. It was Serena who stood next to her, back from another late running shift at the hospital. The woman looked as tired as Bernie felt. The shadows under the woman’s eyes looked darker than they had when Bernie had seen her check in. Neither of them appeared to be getting enough sleep, Bernie thought as the lift dinged and the doors opened.

Ever polite, ever regimented, Bernie waved her arm across to let Serena know she should enter before her. It would take Bernie a little longer to move herself into the box, than Serena, and she couldn’t deny herself another opportunity to glance over the woman. Starting at the woman’s feet, Bernie let her eyes drift up her body as she moved into the lift behind her. By the time they were both inside and Serena had turned around, Bernie was looking at her face, smiling as best she could despite her exhaustion.

“Are you going to press your floor number, or do you want me to do it for you?” Serena’s voice was commanding but not unkind. A low and rumbly tone that shot right through Bernie’s body.

Bernie’s eyes widened at that, realising that she was the one stood next to the floor buttons but was staring at Serena instead. Swivelling on the spot, Bernie jabbed at the number 4 before looking back at Serena, her eyes slightly obscured by her falling hair. The doors started to close, much to Bernie’s relief, and the pair were alone for the short journey upstairs.

“Sorry,” Bernie managed, “it’s been a long day.”

“You and me both,” Serena leant against the wall of the lift, arms crossed as she closed her eyes for a moment.

Tilting her head to one side, Bernie offered a sympathetic smile once Serena’s eyes were open once more. The hand gripping the cane noticeably tightened, knuckles paling, as Bernie willed herself to continue making conversation. It might be her only chance.

“I believe we’re neighbours. I’m in 402.”

“Ah,” Serena nodded, “well, you can stay. Not sure I’ve ever had such a quiet neighbour in a hotel.”

Bernie chuckled at that.

“I’ve been meaning to come by and say hello. But you don’t seem to be in, too often.”

“No,” Serena agreed, “Work,” came the short explanation. Serena wasn’t ready to give any other details.

“Ah,” Bernie echoed Serena’s earlier guttural response, just as the doors pinged and opened to their floor. That cut short their conversation as their attention turned to making their way to their rooms. Bernie, half limping, half shuffling, made slow progress. Pain pinched the corners of her eyes and the grey in her complexion seemed more obvious now against the harsh corridor lights. She’d expected Serena to rush off, but Bernie was pleasantly surprised to note that the woman stayed in step with her.

“Are you all right?” Serena asked, concern clear in her voice.

“Ah, yes. Well, I will be,” Bernie replied, rather cryptically.

“Hmm, well, if you need any help, at any time. Medical attention. I’m a doctor. A surgeon.” Serena’s sentences came out with breaks in between each phrase. A strange nervousness to her offer, even though it was purely professional.

Bernie stopped for a moment. Looked Serena up and down. Then nodded, a smile of realisation appearing on her face.

“What?” Serena asked, puzzled.

“I should have known.”

“Known what?”

“Your profession,” Bernie started to walk again before adding: “I’m a surgeon too. Or I was.” The last was said bitterly, grief over her career hanging heavy in her throat.

“Takes one to know one,” Serena raised an eyebrow before smirking, looking at the door numbers around them – not as familiar as Bernie with the layout of the hotel – and therefore missing the weight of Bernie’s emotions.

“Something like that.” There had been a pause before Bernie spoke again.

Slowing as they approached their respective rooms, Serena held out her hand before realising that Bernie’s right hand was occupied. Dropping her own right hand, she then offered her left.

“Serena Campbell. If we’re neighbours, we should at least know each other’s names, don’t you think?”

“Bernie Wolfe,” Bernie replied, her hand reaching for Serena’s.

The warmth of Serena’s skin seeped into Bernie’s hand and up her arm. Fingers skimmed over fingers and palms before enclosing. There was a tingling electricity that Bernie couldn’t ignore. A pull towards the other. Serena’s grip was firm but not too tight. Bernie found herself unwilling to withdraw.

It was Serena who moved first. A light squeeze to Bernie’s hand and she let hers drop away. The loss was felt by them both, in some dull empty way that squeezed at their hearts. Still, Serena was smiling, and it was the first proper smile she’d managed in days.

“I should …” Serena motioned to her room.

“Right,” Bernie nodded, reaching into her pocket for her own key card. “I hope you can get some rest.”

Serena’s face fell at that, darkness clouding her features. “I think the worst is yet to come,” she muttered, almost to herself. With one last nod to Bernie, Serena let herself into her room, leaving the other woman staring at the space she’d left in the corridor. Brows knotting together in confusion, Bernie wondered what that could have meant. Little did she know, she wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.

The heavy door closed with a clunk behind Bernie. Flipping on light switches, throwing her key card onto the desk, she finally let herself drop onto the bed. Cane left forgotten beside her, Bernie massaged her hand, sore from use, before laying back against the soft duvet. Staring up at the ceiling, she took stock of her body. All the aches and pains, the soreness and fatigue. Proof she was alive. Proof that she still had a long way to go.

Nimble fingers massaged at her hip and thigh as she let out a long sigh and closed her eyes, content to stay like that for a short time. The room was still and quiet. Nothing could be heard save for Bernie’s breathing. The peace of it all swam around her, blanketing Bernie until she was almost relaxed enough to fall asleep. Indeed, her breathing had started to even out, her hand dropped to the bed, just as the loud bang of a door came through the wall.

Rubbing her eyes, before running her hand down her face, Bernie pushed herself to sit up again. With a light groan, she leant forward to rest her face in her hands but was woken from her drowsiness by raised voices. Turning her head, Bernie watched the wall, as if that would somehow provide answers. She could make out the timbre of Serena’s voice alongside a deeper voice that she didn’t recognise. A man’s voice.

The realisation that Serena was having an argument with someone unsettled Bernie. It was none of her business but, the nature of hotels and the thickness of walls being such, she couldn’t help but overhear. Gripping the edge of the mattress, Bernie heard mentions of affairs and humiliation. References to pain, grief, and someone called Elinor. Understanding and sadness cut at Bernie. It might be a very different end to a relationship than the end of her marriage, but it still hurt. That Serena was having to go through this pulled at Bernie’s heart.

After some time the voices quietened, seemingly exhausted from the shouting. Sighing, Bernie felt her shoulders slump, unaware of how tense her neighbour’s argument had made her. There was a sound of a door opening and closing, and then silence. Running a hand through her hair, Bernie considered knocking on Serena’s door. She so desperately wanted to make sure Serena was all right. But it felt like an intrusion. The woman probably wanted to be alone.

Coming to a compromise, Bernie lifted the receiver of her room-phone and called down to reception. If she wasn’t going over to Serena, then the least she could do was make sure Serena knew that someone was thinking of her. Bernie ordered food for her neighbour, and asked if they could find out what her favourite drink at the bar was and send that up too. Lastly, she let them provide a note so Serena would know who the surprise was from.

It read: Thought you could do with this. I’m here if you need to talk. Bernie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading this fic.   
> Looks like right now I'm managing a chapter every 3 weeks.   
> I'm hoping to stick to that, or shorter, but we shall see.  
> Thanks to Pers for all their hard work in continuing to beta-read this for me!


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